


It'sAShameAboutX-Ray

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Humor, M/M, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-03
Updated: 2004-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parody script 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'sAShameAboutX-Ray

**Author's Note:**

> Twoppers, thank you. You're funny, you're bright, you're all shiny like tinfoil. 

## It'sAShameAboutX-Ray

by Shropshire

[]()

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own any Smallville characters, their pets or houseplants. Money is something that happens to other people. 

This script was agonizingly torn from one written by Mark Verheiden and transcribed by LLC and tmelange here: <http://www.lexslash.com/pdfs/X-ray.pdf>. They deserve a lot of thanks and a pony. Much of the original material remains. 

Dedication: is all you need. If you want to be a record breaker. 

Series: "Parody script series". I have the imagination of a soggy lettuce. Follows "Reheatedhead" around and embarrasses it in front of its friends. 

Warnings: Lame innuendo, puns to make your eyes bleed, obscure references, Britishisms, foul naughty words 'n stuff 

* * *

[It is daytime. The sun has got its hat on. Hip hip hooray. 

The birds are squeaking and the flags are flying, right in the way of the camera. 

This particular flag belongs to the Smallville Savings and Loan Sharks bank. 

We go inside, eager to breathe in the world of commerce. 

Lex Luthor is there ahead of us, wearing a suit and a rather inappropriate red bookbag. It's cute and girly and so is Lex today. 

The bank manager is on the phone to his mother but, seeing Lex, he rudely hangs up in the middle of a recipe, grabs his skateboard and slides on over. 

He oozes at Lex.] 

Bank Manager: Mr. Luthor, looking fy- _ine_! Love the bag! How can I help you today? Money, corndogs, sexual favours? 

Lexina: I'd like to close all my accounts. And flutter my eyelashes a bit. 

[He does so. The Bank Manager's wind has been sucked right out of his sails and on to a better world.] 

Bank Manager: But Lex! I thought we meant something to each other! I have your picture in my wallet here, look! 

Lexina: Sweet. But I'm still taking all my money. So there. 

Bank Manager: Well, heck. There goes the gold lined swimming pool for the kids. 

Lexina: I'd like it all in cash and poker chips, please. 

Bank Manager: Um, okay. Sign here. 

[Lexina signs the offered slip with a flourish and a simper. 

The manager's suspicious now. He checks the signature, which doesn't match. The heart instead of an 'o' in Luthor is a giveaway. 

He goes back over to Lexina.] 

Bank Manager: May I see your driver's license please? And any birthmarks or distinguishing features or trouser mammals? 

Lexina: Oh, so that's why I feel so...I mean, why? How many people have this face? Is there a sale on? 

Bank Manager: I'm sorry sir, but we have had a bit of an evil twin problem in the past. And there were these robots... 

Lexina: Gah. Bloody sci-fi plot devices. Never mind, never mind. 

[Opens bag and pulls out a rabbit. Then a gun, which is more useful though less cuddly.] 

Lexina: Okay, buddy, stick 'em up. And then, er, put 'em down again and stuff loads of money into my bag. Please. 

[Cut to Lexina, the Minister for Silly Runs. He carries the bag and the gun. The rabbit is still in the bank, nesting in some chequebooks. 

The bank alarm is ringing, warning of an impending bank stampede. People in the streets look nervous and duck and cover. 

There is a rush sale on paper bags. 

Cut to Clark, just walking down the street, singing doo wa diddy, diddy...diddy...damn, I know this... 

Just as he's about to get the next line, he spots the fake plastic Lex. 

Watching Lexina while walking proves hazardous, so he slows down out of consideration to others. 

Lexina has no such scruples, flinging a passer by to the ground, giving some pensioners a Glasgow kiss, leaping onto a car, machine-gunning some puppies and yelling "Come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough!" 

Nobody believes themselves to be quite hard enough, although Clark's getting there fast. 

Lexina, remembering that whole escaping thing, runs onwards and into the solid teak lamppost that is Clark Kent. 

Clark grabs him and pets his trouser mammal.] 

Clark: Lex, what's going on? 

[Lexina is temporarily possessed by the Spirit of Schwarzenegger.] 

Lexina(deep voice): You're going on...that building. 

[She flings. Clark is flung. They will be flanged. We were flungen. 

Clark lays on the floor a bit. It's comfy. He watches Lexina, who is still hanging around for no apparent reason. 

Suddenly, Lexina goes all Skeletor on us. 

Clark is amazed. He always loved that cartoon. And hey, there are little flecks of green inside Skeletina. 

That's one serious build up of phlegm. Kids, never swallow your bogies. Always, always wipe them on your friends and desks. 

They'll biodegrade, it's okay. 

Skeletina, having done a twirl, flees.] 

* * *

[Cut to the inside of an antique house shop. It's incredibly specialised. 

Rose Grier enters the shop. She carries a red bookbag and looks sorrowful. Red is _so_ not her colour. 

She heads upstairs. 

Tina Grier walks out of the bathroom. Her mother rushes up to her.] 

Rose: You used all the hot water _again_. And I bet you nicked my razor, too. 

Tina: I didn't steal your razor. 

[She changes into Lex, demonstrating that she is Morph's love child. 

Her sense of grudge originates from being partially made of crumbly orange plasticene.] 

Tina: Lex Luthor did. 

[She changes back.] 

Rose: Why would Lex Luthor need my razor? To shave his eyebrows into pleasing geometrical shapes? But never mind that now.   
Look! I dropped a penny into your bag the other day and now we have a crop of fresh new money! With banker's wrappers! Aren't they cute? 

Tina: Well, actually Mom...one, money isn't cress. Two, I'm a bank robber. Who robs banks. 

Rose: You stole this money? 

Tina: Yep. 

Rose: Money doesn't grow from seed? 

Tina: Nope. 

Rose: My parents have a lot of explaining to do. And now I have to take this money back. I'll tell them it was a hilarious luggage mix up with some goofy comedy mafia types. 

Tina: Hey, I went to a lot of effort to get that. Now we can afford to have the perfect life! 

Rose: There's no such thing as a perfect life, Tina. Unless you buy _all_ the products on late night t.v. I'm still contemplating that 'Whiskeroonie Slice, Dice 'N Spice' with the free set of steak knives. 

Tina: _Lana_ has the perfect life. Her friends would do anything for her, she's got money, a supportive yet strangely loathable aunt, cooperative hair and the compulsive adoration of total strangers, without actually having to earn any of it. 

Rose: Maybe so, but money can't buy you implausible characterisation. I'm taking it back. 

Tina: No! We deserve to be happy! It was in "The Little Book of Smug Self-Appreciation". 

[Tina and Rose wrestle for the bookbag. Rose is winning, with some nifty shoulder spinning and a chokehold, but Tina Plasticena wriggles free and full body slams her mom. 

Rose then full body slams the stairs, one by one.] 

Rose: Oof! Crunch! Woomp! Erk! Lumme! Splash! 

[Rose lies, organs akimbo, at the bottom of the stairs. Tina rushes down to check if she's still breathing. 

The evidence suggests not. 

Tina grabs the phone. Phone sex acquires a new meaning.] 

Voice: You have dialed the Luthor Resurrection Centre and Monkey Shelter. Our operators are busy at the moment but we value your custom. Please hold for service. 

( _Tall and tanned and young and lovely_ , _the girl from Ip_...) 

[Tina sighs and slams the phone down. She looks speculatively at the corpse.] 

* * *

[Clark's Pad. Groovy. 

The Kents discuss Lex. Ice is standing in buckets nearby, just in case.] 

Martha: Come on. Why would Lex Luthor need to rob a bank? And why would he do it so...geekily? 

Jonathon: I've seen some pretty strange things in my day, but this one takes the ca...what are you doing, Martha? 

Martha: Platitude bingo. You just carry on, dear. 

Clark: I know Lex. In the biblical sense. It wasn't him. 

Jonathon: Clark, I know he's a friend of yours, but you saw him with your own eyes...spotted leopards don't fall far from the tree... 

Martha: House! In your face, Spaceboy! 

Clark: Damn. Washing-up for a whole week. Dad, I don't know what I saw. It was a while ago now, the details are fuzzy, I'd eaten this fungus... 

Martha: I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Or at least, an unreasonable one. 

Lex: I'd guess option B.   
At least we can rule out the evil twin. He got rehabilitated and now teaches woodwork to underprivileged children in Minsk. 

Martha: Lex! We didn't hear you! You walk so quietly, like a dark, loping panther in the night. 

Lex: So I'm told. Can I come in? I promise I'm not packing heat. 

[Martha doubts that. Clark blushes. Jonathon frisks him for weapons anyway. 

Martha and Clark then double check. Just in case. 

Some time later...] 

Clark: So, Lex, how come you're not in jail? 

Lex: I've got this monolopy card. It's incredibly useful. Oh, and an alibi. 

Jonathon: Do the police have any leads? Or dog collars on sale? I'm asking for a friend. 

Lex: Er, no. But I can give you the number of a very discreet pet shop. Here... Clark, it's you I really came to see. 

Clark: Yay!Me! 

Lex: You actually saw the robber? 

Clark: Yes. He looked just like you. Except that he couldn't accessorize. 

Lex: And the signature, fingerprints and pouting technique were way off, too. You're sure your eyes weren't playing tricks? 

Clark: You mean like knocking at my eyelids and running away? 

Lex: Clark, remind me again why we're sleeping together? 

Clark: Destiny. Two great powers irresistibly drawn together by unknowable forces with keyboards. And my incredible edible body. 

Lex: Good point. 

Clark: So what happens now? 

Lex: Well, I have a fireplace, a rug, some soap-on-a-rope... 

Jonathon _coughs loudly and desperately_ : He _meant_ ; What happens about the robbery? 

Clark: Well, no actually, I did mean the fireplace thing... 

Jonathon: Excuse me, while I go wash my mind out with Domestos. 

Lex: I'm sorry you got thrown through the window, Clark. If I were elected criminal mastermind, I'd make safety zones for innocent bystanders to watch the action from. Maybe with hotdog stands. 

Clark: You'd get my vote. But you'd have to wear a mask. (grins) A Zorro mask. And that swirly black cape thing...with a wild flashing blade... 

Lex: Fireplace, Clark. Now. 

* * *

[Smallville High, like many Highs, has a Gym. 

A group of kids are being hassled within it.] 

Gym teacher: Faster my pretties, lets climb rope, people! Up the rope. Down the rope! Round and round the steeple! If the rope ain't burning, you're not doing it right! Move it, move it, my Monkeys of Delight! 

[Clark watches Lana leave. It's a good feeling.] 

Pete: Keep your eyes in your head, man. You start letting them roam freely about the body and next thing you know, Bam! they're stuck in your lower intestine for the rest of your life. And you'll get very, very glad it's dark in there. 

[Clark suddenly and dramatically squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at his head. He reels a bit. 

The Gym Teacher immediately demonstrates concern.] 

Gym guy: Kent, are we boring you? Do you _see_ any drills here? 

Clark: No, it's...Pete just put some appalling images into my mind. 

Gym: Well, then you will be cured if you...climb some rope. It's a universal panacea. 

[He cackles madly and pets his invisible wombat.] 

Gym: Climb that rope! Tote that bale! 

[We see Pete and Clark climbing ropes. They're planning to ask how you tote later on.] 

Gym: Come on, Kent, you big girl's blouse. If Ross beats you, you get ten laps. Actually, no, the police keep coming round about that. 

Pete: You'd better try harder, Clark. In case he changes his mind. 

[Clark looks at Pete who suddenly loses his face. All of his muscles and gooshy bits are on display, like one of those biology textbook diagrams that gave you nightmares as a kid. 

Clark wobbles a bit, about to lose his lunch.] 

Pete: Clark? Clark? Clark? Clark? Clark? 

[Somebody shimmies up the rope and slaps him.] 

Pete: Thanks, man. 

[Meanwhile, Clark Kent, mild-mannered mature schoolboy, lies helplessly on the cold, unforgiving floorboards. 

Was the fall fatal? Will he feel faulty? 

Will he recover in a sec and get up, none the worse?] 

Gym guy: Hey, Kent. You landed really hard there. The floor actually shook. I should get up and give it another try. You'll feel better. 

[Clark sits up and looks at and through the wall of the gym. The girl's locker room is on the other side because the writers grew up watching Porky's. 

Lana comes into view wearing only a towel. It fights to get away. 

Losing, she drops the towel with her back to Clark. 

Clark smiles. Heh. His arse is way nicer than hers.] 

* * *

[They're creepy and they're kooky. They're altogether ooky. They make the cattle spook-y. They're in the living room.] 

Martha: So, when you have these flashes, you can see through anything? 

Clark: Yeah, windows, cellophane, Lana...it's incredible. 

Jonathon: And there's no warning? No little alarm or flashing light? Stern voice with a countdown and a self-destruct facility? 

Clark: Not so far. I just get these headaches. The first time, I thought I was hallucinating. You always told me never to eat the spotty ones. But then it happened again. 

Martha: I'm sure there's some way to control this. Do you have any...switches? Or levers? 

[Clark blushes like a Towering Inferno caught in some terribly embarrassing scenario.] 

Martha: Ah...I'm betting that's not actually a lever, Clark. 

Clark: You're right. Something would have happened by now. Hundreds of times. 

Martha: Moving swiftly on...I suggest you do eye yoga. I have a booklet. You can give your eyes a daily workout and get them used to controlling this x-ray thing. 

Jonathon: Your mom's right, son. Or at least, she's giving you advice instead of me. Better take what you can get before she turns into a wet dishcloth. 

Martha: Like that'd ever happen. 

Jonathon: Of course not, love. By the way did I mention my friends in Stepford? We really must visit someday. 

[Clark, meanwhile, is browsing the booklet "Eyega and You". It looks tricky.] 

Clark: Oh, great. I have to, like, practice and stuff. Ten minutes a day! Ugh! It's so unfair! 

[ He stomps off through the door. 

His parents sigh. The cartoon outline was cute when Clark was five, but they aren't made of money and wood doesn't grow on trees you know. 

(Hey! Bingo!)] 

* * *

[ Nell walks Tina to the garage with Lana in it. 

Nell thinks wistfully of a garage with Lana under it, as she unties the leash and lets Tina bound playfully over to Lana.] 

Nell: You have a victim. Or some word beginning with 'v'. 

[She runs away inside to have sex with a stranger.] 

Tina: Hay, Lana. It's the only material for building stacks. 

Lana: Tina. I didn't see you at school today. But then, I wasn't looking. 

Tina: My mom isn't well. But she's better. But not well. She's kind of on the cusp, illness wise. Has Nell forgiven you for quitting the squad? 

Lana: She's a little upset, so I try and spend more time with her, help her out, try and engage her in conversation about my dead parents. Then she gets more upset. 

Tina: Well, now you have extra time to spend with your unpopular friends. 

Lana: I do, but...yo.. _they_ 're unpopular. So why bother? Anyway, stop whining. At least your mom doesn't try to run your life. Or run you over. But I think that was an accident. 

Tina: At least you had someone to take you in. If my mom died or anything, which you know, she hasn't, I'd probably be shipped off to a glue factory. 

Lana: Tina, you're so depressing. Can't you stop talking about death? And, well, you? 

Tina: You're right. I should talk about you. You have the perfect life. 

Lana: Take my life. Please. 

[Lana cracks herself up sometimes.] 

Tina: I'd settle for the outfit. 

[Pause.] 

Tina: Anytime you're ready. No? Damn. Let's be sisters then. You'd have to let me borrow your clothes, there are rules about it. Can I wear them if I promise to think about you? 

Lana: That's creepy. But maybe. 

* * *

[Clark is walking down the sidewalk when his head starts to come loose. He clutches at it to keep it on and accidentally flips the "X-Ray On" button. 

All around him skeletons roam, like the pacifist version of Jason and the Argonauts. 

One of the skeletons has that phlegm problem we noticed earlier. It goes into the antique shop. 

Clark finds the reset button, just in time to see that it is Tina. 

Martha comes out of the flour shop. She's disappointed because it only did three types of wholemeal.] 

Martha: Did it happen again? 

Clark: Jeez, _no_ mom. Not since I was twelve, I keep telling you. Please don't make me wear the rubber boxers. 

Martha: The x-ray vision, Clark. 

Clark: Oh. Yeah. 

[They enter the antique shop.] 

Martha: Hello? 

[Rose appears. She's less dead than when we last saw her.] 

Rotnose: Mrs. Kent. Er, Maureen. Mable. Muldoon? 

Martha: Martha. 

Rotnose: That's the puppy. Martha, how's tricks? 

Martha: Rose, are you on drugs? Or freaky fungi? 

Rotnose: Yes. Yes I am. That would explain my odd behaviour and memory lapses. 

Martha: Ooh-kay. 

Rotnose: In fact, to feed my growing habit, I'm thinking of selling this place. I mean: antiques. Why? Was I insane? 

Martha: Well, I'm sure we'll all... miss you. A bit. 

Clark: Is Tina around? I thought I saw her come in. But then I do have a bad track record that-a-ways. 

Rotnose: Oh, she's at Lana's. They love each other very much. In fact I'm planning a June wedding. With fig cake. I just love fig cake. 

Clark: Oh. Wow. I guess I'll have to get them a toast rack. I'll go scope out the cheap ones. 

[He slopes off.] 

Martha: I came by to pick up the lamp. 

Rotnose: Lamp? Small, pointy, be _really_ careful when you polish it? 

Martha: The one you were restoring for Jonathon? He got manure in the works. Still not quite sure how, exactly... 

Rotnose: Oh yeah. Sure. Curse this brain-addling hashish. Yeah, it's around the back there, somewheres. 

[She scoots off to the back and Martha is overtaken by the Smallvillian Snoop Syndrome. 

She wanders around, tapping the walls and adjusting the mirrors to see under things. 

And what to her wondering eyes should appear, but a thick stack of bills that were stolen, I fear. 

She swipes the loot but, alas is not quite quick enough. Rose comes back and catches her redhanded. 

Greenhanded. Whatever.] 

Rose: I looked underneath some old owl cloth and this small, sad hamish but I couldn't see... 

Martha: Er, I found this. Under that chest while I was...dusting. 

Rotnose: Doh. I am _sooo_ wasted. A client paid me in cash and I must have put it under there thinking it was cheese. For the mice. 

Martha: Right. Cheese. You know, if you're, uh, not well, I could take care of that for you... 

Rotnose: See you then, goodbye. I'll post that lamp on to you, soon as I find it. And an envelope. 

[Martha turns to leave, her purse still on the counter. 

Rose chuckles evilly and rubs her hands. 

Then she manages to swipe the keys, just before Martha turns around, somewhat concerned.] 

Rotnose: You forgot your purse, there. Blinks innocently. Oops, I mean... 

[Blinks innocently] 

Martha: Erm, yeah. Thanks. 

[Martha leaves, scared. 

Rose flips the door sign to Closet (Lana painted it for them) and morphs into the Pink Power Ranger. 

Then a sock. And a space hopper. 

Finally, she manages to becomes Tina again. 

We see Martha leaving the shop, rifling through her purse for the Just Say No! helpline number. 

But on every Smallville street corner, vehicular violence looms. 

Martha looks up to see her truck being driven straight at her at a highly irresponsible speed. 

Clark is behind the wheel, twirling an evil moustache. 

Luckily, Martha used to have a crush on Tufty the Road Safety Squirrel. 

She steps neatly out of the way.] 

Martha: Clark! Alas! How sharper than a serpent's tooth, etcetera. 

[The trucks drives off, foiled and embarrassed. 

Clark appears from the other direction. 

There's something funny going on here.] 

Clark: Mom! Are you all right? 

Martha: Clark? But who? But what? Well, blimey. 

[She hugs Clark. Sometimes you just can't help it.] 

* * *

[ The Kent Cabal convene in the kitchen.] 

Jonathon: The police found the truck. They say that means it's theirs now. Clark, do you think you could explain to Lex that I changed my mind about that present? Without actally expressing liking for him? 

Clark: Sorry, Dad. He had the truck converted into a set of steak knives. He said it was an urge that snuck up on him while watching late night t.v. 

Jonathon: Blast. 

Clark: Anyone else see the driver? 

Jonathon: Nope. 

Martha: I could have sworn it was you, Clark. 

Clark: Heh heh. Mom's insa-ane, Mom's insa-ane. 

Jonathon: Obviously someone was impersonating Clark, perhaps for a childrens' party. All that I don't understand is how did they get the keys? Oh, and the rules to Bridge. 

Martha: The only place I went was the antique store... 

Clark: And you went into the flour shop. 

Martha: Oh, yeah. 

Clark: And that English shop that just opened a branch here. Anne Summ-thing. 

Martha: Er, yes. Just...girly stuff.( _cough_ ) But in the _antique shop_ , as I was saying, Rose Grier was acting whacked. And she had five thousand dollars in cash from the Savings and Loan Shark bank. Say, you don't suppose... 

Clark: Why, the bank was robbed yesterday! 

Martha: There just may be a connection. 

Jonathon: So, Rose stole your keys and your truck, changed into her Clark costume and tried to squash you like a hedgehog? 

Clark: I don't think she needed a Clark costume. Though they are very good. 

Martha: High quality stuff. I'm thinking of getting one. 

Clark: Yes, but Tina has green bones. 

Martha: Why that would be the soft bone disease she has that turns bones green if you eat too many vegetables. I, er, read somewhere.  
It was something she got from her dad, I think... 

Jonathon: She got better when she was about three. 

Clark: The meteor shower! 

Jonathon: Why don't we always just jump to that conclusion straight away? It would save a lot of time. 

Martha: So what do you think Tina's up to with her sneaky mischief and murder attempts? 

Clark: I don't know. Perhaps she just wants money for the wedding. I wish I could control my vision better. I have to keep twiddling with my forehead, I get looks. 

Martha: Perhaps you could control it by staring really oddly. 

Jonathon: Yes, Clark. 

[He pulls something out of his pocket and holds it in his fist.] 

Jonathon: Stare really oddly at my hand. 

Clark (squinting a bit): It's a sardine. 

Jonathon (in a spooky voice): You could see through my hand. 

Clark: Nah. You always keep your sardine in that pocket. 

Martha: Jonathon, you promised me you'd give that up. 

Jonathon: Um, yeah...(shuffles) 

* * *

[Lana in the garage with Lana in. She opens a dusty box. 

Inside it are some automatic firing guns, a snow globe, an old sled, and the Ark of the Covenant. 

Ignoring these, Lana goes straight for the diary. 

Secrets! In capsule form! 

Cut to Lana entering the house with the diary. She looks all stuffed up and in need of figs.] 

Nell: Sweetie darling, what's wrong, sweetie? 

[She's possibly been swigging back the Bolly] 

Lana: You lied to me about my mother. And now I'm going to kill you. 

[Musical sting!] 

Lana: Well, no, not really.   
But (nods) lying is wrong and doing wrong things is wrong and I'm quite upset with you right now. 

* * *

[Lex callously leaves a coffee shop bereft of him. He sees a man leaning on his car. 

That's not nice. 

But Lex was brought up proper (apart from all the twisted psychodrama. Etiquette-wise he's solid).] 

Lex: May I help you? 

Roger: Roger Nixon. 

Lex(shudders): Not even when he was alive. 

Roger: I'm from the Metropolis Inquisitor. 

Lex: Get off my car. You're wrinkling it. 

[Roger waves a copy of the Inquisitor at Lex. 

It has a picture of Lexina on the cover, robbing away merrily.] 

Roger: That's a hell of a picture, Lex. You're a very photogenic boy. Our sales tripled that week. We're thinking of doing a swimwear section, if you're interested. 

Lex: Not if the heavens opened and every god in existence bent down and yelled, Hey Lex, be a sport and slip on a speedo for the nice man. 

Roger: Well, I tried. And say, what's this behind your ear? 

[He does the old "look surprised and pluck something clumsily out of thin air" routine.] 

Roger: Why, it's your juvenile record. "The Laughing Gnome" ring any bells with you? 

Lex: All those records were broken. And stamped on. And burnt. 

Roger: Well, I'm a resourceful guy. With lots of sellotape. You know, when I saw that picture I got to thinking of a follow up story. "Lex Luthor's Wild Karaoke Youth." Does the name 'Club Zero' strike mortal embarrassment into your heart at all? 

Lex: You print one word and I'll sue. 

Rogers: Lawsuits take years. Too late to stop everyone knowing that the new, hip music loving Lex Luthor is a facade. 

Lex: You know what I think, Rog? Early Bowie was a painful but necessary stepping stone to greater things. And you're trying to blackmail me, aren't you? 

Roger: Just a teensy bit of blackmailing. One hundred thousand dollars and the record gets it. 

[Lex slips into his car.] 

Lex: I'd question your integrity but you're a journalist. You're probably just watching my lips move and nodding. 

Roger(tries not to do that): Your father really thinks he can hide you here forever? With no large bushes or camouflage gear or _anything_? You've got twenty four hours. 

[He reaches into his coat and pulls out a rabbit and then, disgruntled, his card. 

Lex takes them both. 

It's a nice cuddly rabbit after all and it's chewing on a fifty pound note.] 

* * *

[Lana comes home. A major new motion picture. 

Nell is waiting on the porch, sighing heavily.] 

Nell(patiently): Lana, I didn't lie about your mother. I just didn't tell you that occasionally she had her off days. And sometimes she was unhappy. I kind of assumed you'd know that already. 

Lana: I would have liked the truth. Including a detailed outline of her life and thoughts from birth to death, with pop-up diagrams. 

Nell: I told you what I thought you could handle. Damned, if I wasn't right on the money. 

Lana: I feel like I've been trying to measure up to a Laura Lang who didn't exist. My whole life's an imitation of a figment. 

Nell: Yep. 

[She snickers for a while.] 

Lana: This diary...it's like I wrote it myself...maybe Mom was a time-travelling plagiarist. 

Nell: That's odd, because _she_ was the brightest, most beautiful girl in her class. And she hated pink. She got picked to do the graduation speech. 

Lana: What did she say? 

Nell: She started "I never made a difference here, but maybe my children can." Passing the buck, essentially. She was bright but incredibly lazy. 

* * *

[Clark watches Tina in the school hall. She is wearing Lana's sweater from the day before. Clark has a "so that's how it is" expression on his face.] 

Chloe: Hello Clarkness, my old friend. 

Pete: We've come to talk to you again. 

Clark: Have you two been rehearsing? 

Chloe: Yeah, well, maths was dull. 

Clark: Have you guys noticed anything about Tina Grier? 

Pete: You mean the thing with her and Lana? They are totally picking out sofa cushions together. And I am totally watching them test them out in my head. 

[Chloe belts him. He shushes. They all leave. 

Lana and Whitney seep out of the woodwork.] 

Tina: Lana! 

Whitney: I swear that girl has a sophisticated tracking device. Or can just smell your, um, alluring perfume from three miles out. 

Tina: Do you like the sweater? And isn't that an incredibly gross name for an item of clothing? 

Lana: Yes and, yuk, yes. I've got one just like it. 

Tina: _Exactly_ like it! I broke into your house and rifled through your stuff. 

Whitney(to Lana): Oh great. The last person who broke into your house was a homicidal mutant. I'm out of here. 

[Whitney turns and leaves. It's just a nervous reaction, but it's annoying when deer keep grazing on him.] 

Tina: Hey Lana, are you okay? I stopped by your house and Nell said you were in an almighty huff so... 

Lana: I'm perfect, thank you. You, on the other hand are creepy. Flattering but creepy. 

Tina: I'm glad we're such good friends because I have a problem. My mom's been carted off to rehab and I need somewhere to stay. So I thought Nell could legally adopt me and we could all live happily ever after. Dibs on your room. 

Lana: Wait a minute, there, crazy lady. Haven't you considered alternatives? 'cause, dumpsters are nice. 

Tina: Hold on...you don't really love me, do you? Is it the stalking? 

Lana: No, I like the stalking. I just hate to share. 

Tina: Well, that's it then. I must go to plot your death. 

[She walks away in a strop. Clark passes her and decides to invade her locker privacy. 

He stares oddly at the door and sees her backpack inside. Also a packet of some dull looking paper stuff. 

Looking harder, he sees a snow covered landscape and a odd, regal-looking woman, holding a box of turkish delight and tapping her watch. 

Before he can pursue the turkish delight, Tina comes back.] 

Tina: Clark. It would be hypocritical of me to condemn your stalker habits but...quit staring at me and my secret monetary hiding places! 

Clark: Sorry. I'm going to this help group, I swear. 

[He walks away pondering the meaning of her words] 

* * *

[Martha and Jonathon are in the hayloft. They like to experiment from time to time. 

Clark enters, which is a bit more experimental than they were going for.] 

Martha (gulping): Clark! What are you doing home so early? And without knocking? 

Clark: I sussed out the whole x-ray vision thing. And it's a barn, mom. 

Martha: Well, next time, whistle or something. 

Clark: So, Tina has the bank money in her locker. Do you think that means she stole it? Dad, you've got some straw just... 

Jonathon: Get. Out. 

* * *

[Tina's in the antique shop practising Lana's signature and facial expressions. 

She's just considering switching to a fibre-only diet, when two cops drop by.] 

Rotnose: Why hello, young deputies. Do come in and have a scone. 

Cop: Actually, we're looking for your daughter. Is she likely to be inside this scone? 

Rotnose: She's not back yet. What could you possibly want with her? 

Cop: The money stolen from the Smallville bank was found in her school locker. Bit of a duff hiding place really. 

Rotnose: I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Like, perhaps she couldn't find a shoebox. 

Cop: Could you send her down to the station when she gets home? 

Rotnose: I will certainly do that, good officers. By the way, who was the lying scum who squealed on my daughter? 

Cop: Meh. Just some tall, anonymous kid in flannel. 

* * *

[Clark's in the loft gazing lovingly at a football-shaped money bank. 

Lana comes in. She's wearing yellow, so you know something's up.] 

Latina: What are you doing? 

Clark: I'm wondering if I could fit this whole thing in my mouth or if I'd need a shoe horn. 

Latina: You could always slice it up into chunks. 

Clark: Where's the fun in that? 

Latina: Did you hear about Tina? She is so busted! 

Clark: Gosh. Really? 

Latina: I'm quite glad, because I think she threatened my life a bit. And she put me off sweaters. 

Clark: That'll thin out your wardrobe. 

Latina: I've got enough problems with Nell, without having to deal with clothing issues. 

Clark: It's all right Lana, you can hardly see the damp patches. And hey, aren't you and Nell close? 

Latina: She sees me a fairy princess. She doesn't mention it as such, but my utterly dead parents agree that it's true. There's the person that everybody sees and there's the person that's always just behind your shoulder, making faces at your head, but whenever you look around they're gone. 

Clark: Yes. That's always happening to me. 

Latina: That's why I came here. I think you're the one person who sees me for who I really am. A selfish pink-obsessed bitch who wouldn't know the love of a good woman, if it climbed into her bedroom and licked all her trophies. 

[Latina kisses Clark and he recoils like a snake after a nice long stretch. 

He's praying Lex doesn't walk in because this could get ugly.] 

Clark: What about Whitney? 

Latina: Forget Whitney. 

Clark: Okay, give me a sec. There, he's gone. Wait... who's gone? Who are you? What's this big brown thing we're standing in? 

[Latina kisses Clark again to shut him up. When she pulls back she is Tina.] 

Tina: You dobbed me in to the coppers and now you must pay. 

[She flings Clark again, because a girl's got to have a hobby. 

Another wall bites the dust.] 

* * *

[Night has fallen and Martha and Clark mope about the loft. 

Jonathon comes back with a flashlight. 

They cheer up. Now they can play shadows.] 

Jonathon: Well, there's no sign of Lana or Tina or Turner or...ooh, don't tell me, don't tell me, it's a... crocodile? 

Clark(sulky): It was a tapir. 

Jonathon: Come off it. Where was the droopy proboscis? 

Clark:(mutters): _in the hayloft with mom_... 

Martha: Clark, are you absolutely sure you saw her turn back into Tina? 

Clark: Either that or -bunny rabbit? Yay!- I didn't. It was one of those two. 

Jonathon: So, she can change appearance at will. Maybe she's...this plank! HIYAH! Ouch.  
Okay, sorry. (shrugs)Plank, Lana, I thought there might be a theme. 

* * *

[Day has occurred again, and Chloe is spending this one in the Torch office. 

She is sitting at the computer when she hears someone come in.] 

Chloe: Pete, if you come up behind me and say "guess who?" again, I'm going to guess "the bloke who is about to be painfully rammed in the gonads with a stapler." 

Lana: Mind if I come in? 

Chloe: Oh, sorry. Hang on, I'll put the safety on the staple gun. 

Lana: I really admire you, Chloe. With your papery skills and your blondithity and your cleavage and all. 

Chloe: Well, er, thanks, I...what was that last one? 

Lana: The Torch prints the graduation speech each year, right? 

Chloe: Yes. It's a boon to insomniacs everywhere. What year do you want? 

Lana: Nineteen seventy seven. The year they robbed the seven eleven. 

Chloe: Heavens.   
Okey-doke, that means I'll have to get it out of this here file cabinet. 

[She gets it out of that there file cabinet.] 

Chloe: Here we go. "The Plague Years: Boogie to the Black Death" was the prom theme, "Septic Toenail" was voted "Least Crap Band" and oh, the speech was pulled. 

Lana: "Due to swearing, violence and references to 'fisting', 'anal intrusion', 'cunnilingus', 'felching' and 'the principal's big fat hairy ass' the editors have been forced at gunpoint not to run the text of the speech in this issue." 

Chloe: Wow. Who made the speech? 

Lana: My mother. 

Chloe: Were you adopted? 

Lana: What does 'coney lingers', mean? Some sort of persistent rabbit? 

* * *

[Which leads us, oh so neatly, into the next scene. 

Lex is having a drink, stroking his bunny. 

Money abounds on the table, slightly chewed. Roger enters.] 

Lex: Can I fix you a drink? Little cyanide chaser? 

Roger: I'd like to just get my money, gloat a bit and go. 

Lex: Sure. 

Roger: I assume I don't have to count it? 

Lex: Not if it would be painful for you. It's okay. Math skills aren't necessary for journalism. 

[Roger starts filling up a bag with his illgotten gains.] 

Lex: You're feeling pretty good right now, aren't you? It's the way you keep singing and breaking into the cha-cha. You'd think with all the money my father spent, he could make things disappear. 

Roger: Sleight of hand is a tricky beast. 

[He drops a file on the table and a cupcake. He's in a good mood and wants to share.] 

Roger: The original. Enjoy the cake, they're yummily moist. 

Lex: Nice image. If you walk out that door I will make you disappear. 

Roger: What? Hang on, are you going to have me killed? 

Lex: No. Although...no. Here, look. 

[Lex shows Roger to an large ornate box, big enough to fit someone inside.] 

I can do it with tigers, too. 

Roger(looking scared): You're bluffing. 

Lex: Nuh-uh. 

[He picks up the rabbit, strokes it and carefully places it inside the box. 

Closing the lid, he does a few sensual hand gestures over the top and smiles at Roger, who is torn between fear and an urgent need for tissues. 

Lex gestures for Roger to open the box.] 

Roger(lifting the lid): What did you do?! 

Lex: Don't worry, Roger. Just do as I say and you'll never have to find out. 

Roger: I'll return the money! I'll give you _my_ money. And my car! And my dog, Fink. 

Lex: It's too late for that. You messed with me. Now I own you. 

Roger: What do you want from me? 

Lex: I need your help. 

[They move to a room which contains Lex's battered Porsche.] 

Roger: What happened to your car? 

Lex: I drove it off a bridge at sixty miles an hour. And then it fell into the world's largest deep fat frier. _That_ 's a long story. 

Roger: How are you alive? 

Lex: Mutant healing powers and my boyfriend's magic kisses. What I need you to do is to scrape off the batter and find out why the roof has been peeled back like a giant metal banana skin. Clark keeps playing dumb. Or being dumb. It's hard to tell, sometimes. 

* * *

[Clark sits on his porch and stares at Lex's lead box, fondling it lightly. 

Lana approaches, like the soft squishy pink slug of doom. 

Clark gives her skeleton a suspicious look.] 

Lana: Clark, why are you looking at me like that? Did I forget to put on three layers of make-up? 

Clark: No, no. I just wasn't sure it was you. 

Lana: Oh. Well that's fair enough. So- I was out jogging, got lost, ended up here. 

Clark: You and Nell are still fighting. 

Lana: How can I be fighting Nell? She's at least a mile away. And I'm not even wearing boxing gloves. 

Clark: Yeah. Silly me. 

Lana: I found my mother's diary. Turns out she felt some of the same things I do. For example one entry went,  
"Got up."  
I do that _all_ the time! It's spooky.  
I feel like she could see right through me. Do you ever feel like that? 

Clark: No, but sometimes I have to, to check for bone phlegm. 

Lana: When I was reading her words it was like she was talking to me. Only quieter. 

Clark: You're lucky. 

Lana: Lucky that all I have left of my mother is a heap of inky paper? 

Clark: Well, no. Not in that sense. 

Lana: Have you ever tried to find your real parents? 

Clark: Nah. I figure they're probably in a distant galaxy far far away. Possibly wearing heavy breathing equipment. 

Lana: If you could ask them a question, what would you ask? 

Clark: Um. "There are two trains going to Sacramento. One train leaves at four minutes past seven..." 

Lana: Nobody likes those sort of questions, Clark. Ask them a general knowledge. 

Clark: Thanks, Lana. I will. 

* * *

[Whitney joins Lana in the hall at school. Kids these days. Tsk.] 

Whitney(flushed and breathless): I thought you were working on a project. Or your nails or something. 

Latina: I finished early. I thought I'd spend some fluid with the best boyfriend in the world. 

Whitney: Good plan. But now I have this trig test I have to study for. 

Latina: That's okay. 

[They snog.] 

Whitney: What's got into you? You moved your lips! 

Latina: It's my new, improved recipe. Eight out of ten cats prefer it. 

Whitney: Well, I guess you can call me Tiddles. 

Lana: Tiddles, can I borrow your jacket? 

Whitney: Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow. 

[Latina pulls on the jacket and Hey!Presto she's a small wrinkled nun. 

And then Tina. Swearing slightly.] 

* * *

[Pete and Clark stroll idly down the sidewalk, stopping occasionally for hopscotch.] 

Pete: So, you're telling me Tina can bend her bones to become anyone she wants? 

Clark: Yep. 

Pete: But how about her flesh and skin and everything? 

Clark: Um...Hey, look Pete! Remy Zero! 

Pete: Where, where? 

Clark: Oh, sorry Pete, they've been dragged off by wolves. Where were we? 

Pete: Um... Chloe. She usually has long rambling explanations about these things. 

Clark: Yeah, but she's busy. I should really cultivate more friends with computers and improbable avenues of research. 

[They have arrived at the antique shop. Clark peeks through the window.] 

Pete: Great, it's closed. Clark, why would Tina hide in her mom's shop? It's far too obvious and it's all dusty. 

[Clark stares oddly through the window and into a closet. 

There's a skeleton in there, as the law dictates.] 

Clark: I need to get in there. 

Pete: Why? 

Clark: My x-r...ooh, close one. I mean, I have a completely irrational hunch. 

[They break in through the back, with a brick.] 

Pete: So what does your hunch tell you to look for? 

Clark: Tina's dead mom in the closet. 

[Clark opens the closet and Tina's dead mom falls out.] 

Pete: Good hunch. You should give it a cookie. 

[Unbothered by the corpse decorating the floor, they find the papers with Lana's name scrawled all over.] 

Pete: Why was she practising Lana's signature? And what's with all the hearts? 

Clark: You said Tina was obsessed with her. She wants to take it to the next level. 

Pete: She wants to shag Lana? 

Clark: Worse. She wants to become Lana. Imagine. Two of them. Sheesh. 

* * *

[It's dark, muggers, robbers and rapists are on the prowl and Lana is in the graveyard at night on her own.] 

Lana: I found your diary, mom. All this time we've been talking and you never mentioned it? Still, I'll forgive you because you're dead, which is probably really uncomfortable. 

[Whitney sneaks up behind her and says boo.] 

Lana: Argh! Oh. Whitney. What are you doing here? 

Tinney: Standing. Breathing. Going boo. 

Lana: I'm just talking to my parents. 

Tinney: Lana, they're dead. Not alive. Compost. Wormfood. Incommunicado maximo.  
You have this great life, but you spend it whining about how unhappy you are. It's been twelve years. Deal. 

Lana: I hear your words, but I do not understand them. 

Tinney: You don't deserve your life. You should donate it to charity. Or, better still, me. 

[Whitney morphs into Tina and steals Lana's necklace, which is rude. 

Then she starts to choke Lana, which is amusing.] 

* * *

[Lana wakes up. 

Her bed is harder and more airtight than usual. 

Ah. Coffin. Tomb. Complimentary shroud mint. 

Suddenly, she's not so eager to renew her parents' acquaintance. 

As she screams and pounds a bit, Clark runs into the cemetary and goes oof.] 

Tinney: Clark, what are you doing here? 

Clark: Where's Lana? 

Tinney: She's in the right top hand corner behind the guy with the green jumper. 

Clark: Thanks. I always have trouble with these. 

[He puts the book down and sees that Tinney has the necklace. 

Immediately, his green phobia starts acting up.] 

Clark: Ugh. 

Tinney: What's up, Clark? Feeling sick? 

[He hits Clark with a pipe. That doesn't help at all. 

Then he hits him with a piper. 

Clark looks even worse and the piper's none too sprightly, either.] 

Clark: Where's Lana, Tina? 

Tinney: Venezuela? Oh, sorry, I get you. Lana doesn't exist anymore. I've done a poll. It's for the best, all round. 

[Tina hits Clark again, which sends him crashing into a tombstone.] 

Clark: I know what happened to your mother. It's okay, it was a bizarre wrestling accident, no one will blame you. 

Tinney: Well, I _could_ take that risk. Or I could kill you and dance on your bones. It's a toss up, really. 

[Tinney takes off the jacket and throws it aside with the necklace. Stupid boy-girl.] 

Tinney: I thought I killed you once. I can do it again just as easily. 

[Pointless chat out of the way, Tinney swings the pipe again but Clark is all better now. 

He zips out of reach and behind Tinney.] 

Clark: Where's Annie? Where's Annie? Where's Annie? 

[Tinney slaps him round the face.] 

Clark: Cheers. Where's Lana? 

[More fighting ensues. More tombstones die an unnatural death.] 

Clark: Where is she? 

Tinney: She's dead. With a bit of luck. 

[He swings the ol' pipe. Clark grabs it and Highland Flings him at a tree. 

He lands with a thud and turns back to Tina] 

Clark: Lana! 

[He uses his x-ray vision. It's been rather a boon to him, this episode. 

There is a wiggly pink skeleton in a nearby tomb. Clark runs over and, sighing, punches through the tomb and rescues Lana, who's gone unconscious rather suddenly. 

Which is lucky.] 

* * *

[Clark stands outside Lana's house, which is as far as he's prepared to go. 

Police take statements and other bank documents. 

Lana loiters by a fence. Chloe drops by.] 

Chloe: I heard what happened. I brought you something, Lana. 

[She hands Lana a plastic trowel.] 

Chloe: For next time. Oh, and I found a tape of that speech. It's apparently very popular with students. Nearly outsells "Derek and Clive swear for three hours". 

Lana: Thank you. And I really meant it about that cleavage. 

Chloe: Um... 

Clark: How's Tina? 

Martha: She won't be able to hurt anyone else. 

Clark: She's dead?! 

Martha: No, they wrapped her in foam rubber. If she tries to assault someone she'll just bounce. 

Jonathon: I still don't understand why a girl would do all that. Or why they let her out of the kitchen. Ow! Hey, Martha, that was my milking hand. 

Clark: You go through life with a secret and you get jealous of normal people. So you kill them. It's perfectly understandable. 

[Clark watches Whitney run to Lana and hug her. They go inside and he misuses his new gifts for stalking purposes.] 

Clark: Mom, if you could see anything, what would you do? 

Martha: Well, I do have this weird urge to see Lionel Luthor naked. 

Clark: Mom! 

Martha: You couldn't get Lex to...? 

Clark: _Mom_! Oh god, the mental stains will never come out. 

* * *

[Lana has chosen to listen to her mom's speech from inside a truck in the rain. 

She switches the tape on.] 

Man: Miss Laura Potter, valedictorian and three times school pole-dancing champion! Come on down! 

Laura: Thank you, thank you. (coughs) 

I never made a difference here. But maybe my children can. If they're not all a bunch of total... 

[We fade to black as Lana chokes up with the emotion of it all. Or possibly passes a gallstone.] 


End file.
